My Little Golden Book of Phobias

This morning my daughter and my grandson came into my room to wake me up. Milo is so beautiful. I think I didn't notice before but he is made of silk. When you're seven your skin is soft and golden. Your hair is streaked with blonde. Golden. He is golden at seven.

Plus he has a bunch of teeth missing. Maya had to sit on him to cut his fingernails. Victoria says boys are semi-feral. She's right. Boys are noisy and jumpy. Sparkly. And they're not particular about baths.

I saw Hazel tonight. She's five and she has a prodigious vocabulary. Her mother acts like this is nothing unusual, which for her, isn't . Hazel wanted to talk about the amniotic sac and the bones of the pelvis so I demonstrated where they were on her, illium and sacrum. She wanted to know the name of the bones we sit on. Just keep going, Hazel. And write it all down.